He was sick of feeling empty inside
Only self-pity seemed to fill the void, and he knew that wasn’t healthy
Looking out over the storm-tossed ocean waves, he wondered what to do
Love felt so far away, somewhere out there past the emotional gray horizon
Of course, even if he got out there it might not help
Walking away from the water, he tried to convince himself that being full wouldn’t feel all that great
Giving money away like it was going out of style
Reaching deep into their wallet to make everything happen
And boy did they. They were a walking talking party
From sunup till way past sundown, sometimes for twenty-four hours straight
Then one day their aunt realized where her money was going, and he suddenly had none.
Looking for that little bit more
I push the pace past what was comfortable into the red zone
Making me breathe harder, faster
It rips a growl from my soul as hit that wall
Then I break through that ceiling. On to that next level.
Bring the explosion of energy to the room
Obliterate any negative thoughts or emotions
Obscure the failings of the past with your positive shockwave
Make those around you rebuild with joy
When the hands swept past noon
All eyes were drawn to the two men standing in the street
Today only one of them would walk away
Capping a monumental story of conflict between two protagonists
High above, the bells chimed out, punctuated by two percussive blasts, and then dead silence
Push your body past its self-imposed limits
And suffer the wrath of muscle, bone, and sinew
It can be mitigated by medication, but
Nothing will change what you feel, both short term and long, except for time.
Clutter of electronics covered his desk like high tech lichen on a wooden rock
Reality bending miracles of the past now mere pieces and memories
And he kept contributing new relics to the collection
Swearing, he flicked the switch again, but
His computer still wasn’t booting, just more of the blue plague infecting his vision
Knowing you would keep stabbing me in my back
Never helped in the past and yet
If I didn’t go through that personal hell I wouldn’t be where I am
Finally free of the pain of your sharp slices that cut me down
Enabling me to fly away on angel’s wings
Washing her hands of the situation, she put away the cleaning supplies.
It was far past the point of no return, but it would still be proper to make things tidy
Perhaps she could even burn a candle to help with the smell.
Except the police would be here soon, so it was time to be off.
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Putting globules of memories into the air
Enabling the scent of the past to permeate the world
Rose and citrus mixed with grandma and the lake
Funny how smell is the sense that triggers all this
Urging us to remember
Molding the moment into something nostalgic
Except when it causes us to sneeze
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
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